From one kind of trouble to another
by RedSneakerShoes
Summary: Kind of working title. John goes to a boarding school to get away from an abusive home, and gets to room with no other than Sherlock Holmes; the mysterious guy no one really knows at to think of and John gets tangled into trouble, he never knew how much he wanted to be in. Probably Johnlock and obvioulsy teenlock. Based on 100 prompts.
1. In which John leaves home

Hello, you who has clicked on this story. How very nice of you. I'll be honest with you: I do not know where this story is going at this moment. I am using a prompt list by DaniIsAZombie on DeviantArt and using a random chooser-thing to choose the prompt, so I have no idea what I need to incorporate in my chapters. As it is quite a creative prompt list, it's gonna be very exciting. I should stop babbling now, and let you read. Story has not been beta'ed, so please do notify me of any mistakes you find. (Especially if you happen to find anything that is completely wrong and not how you do it at all in England, I'll be glad to know, as I'm not British and my knowledge is based upon TV shows and what the internet tells me.) This chapter is quite short. Others will be longer; some will not. Hey, I do have 100 prompts to get through.

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Chapter 1 - 83. If I could do anything right now, I'd…

Frankly, John was quite scared at the moment. It was the first of September, the first school day of the year, and he stood in front of the old building, that was going to be his home for the next year or so. His mum had dropped him off at the train station at home 3 hours ago. She had been crying softly, but had smiled through the tears for him. He was going to be all right after all now, was he not? John had kissed her cheek and with the promise of phoning and writing, he had waved goodbye as he entered the train. At the time John did not know that was going to be the last time he saw his mum alive. In stead he now stood nervous in the starting autumn weather with a back pack on his bag and a duffel bag slung over his left shoulder. _If I could do anything right now, _he thought, _I'd just disappear, _knowing that was not a possibility. Sighing, he built up the courage to enter the building in front of him.


	2. In which John eats a biscuit

Chapter 2. Not much to say here.

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Chapter 2 – 96. Exhaustion

If John thought there had been a lot of students outside – saying goodbye to parents, saying hello to old friends – the amount of kids crowding the entrance hall was massive. All the new students, the year 9 students on their first year on the school, stood in small groups, making awkward first-meet conversations, waiting for a teacher to tell them all where to go. Not John though. John was special and had been allowed into the school, even though he was in year 12. It happened sometimes, he had been told, when they had room for it, but that was not often and as he was the only one that year, he had to find the administration by himself. It should not be hard according to the letter he clutched in his right hand. It turned out to be true, as the office was down the very first hallway on the right.

"Um, hello?" he asked carefully, when he had entered the room. An elderly woman sat behind the counter, the name "Mrs. Hudson" stood engraved on the nameplate in front of her. She looked up at the sound of his voice.  
"Well, hello, dear, can I help you?" she asked in a very kind voice.

"I'm John Watson," he explained as he stepped closer to the counter.

"Oh, of course!" she said and got up from her chair and went over to a set of drawers. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. Students like you are always the most interesting. Please help yourself to a biscuit, dear," she said and John took a biscuit from the bowl on her counter, mostly to be polite. She returned with a folder.

"Let me see," she said and opened it and flipped through the papers. "Here's your schedule, a map of the school, a few other important informations – please do read them – and here's your rooming information. 221B," she eyed John, who carefully munched on the biscuit. She smiled.

"You two will get along just fine, I think." She closed the folder and handed it to him. "Let me show you your room. You must be exhausted."


	3. In which John meets Sherlock

Chapter 3 - 53. Broken glass

"It's right down here, love, dorm B, floor 2, room 21," Mrs. Hudson said as they neared the door furthest down the hallway. Mrs. Hudson apologised for this:

"It's a bit far away, I know."

"It's fine," John said and meant it. He quite liked Mrs. Hudson and thought nothing of having to walk a bit further than others to get to his room. They stopped in front of the very last door on the left. She knocked the door carefully. John heard steps and the door opened to a young, tall man with dark curls and a cold face. He smiled when he saw Mrs. Hudson and John and it changed his face completely. He did not look... Normal, but definitely not bad looking. Prominent cheekbones and light eyes and now that he smiled, he looked friendly.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson!" he smiled.

"Hello, Sherlock," she said lovingly. "I just came to drop off, young John here. He'll be your room mate for now on, as we've talked about. But I'll just leave again to let you two get acquainted." She turned to John. "Just come to me, if there's anything. But I doubt it," she looked at Sherlock and back to John. "You two will get along just fine." Mrs. Hudson left John standing in the door way with his new room mate – Sherlock – in front of him. They stood in silence, just eyeing each other for a while before Sherlock stuck out his hand for John to shake.

"Sherlock Holmes," he still smiled, but it was more of a thoughtful, interested smile than the happy smile he wore in front of Mrs. Hudson.

"John Watson," John said and took his hand. Sherlock held onto it and they stood in silence again, before Sherlock let go and stepped in.  
"Do come in," and John did. The room was not that big. Or at least it did not look very big as it was packed to its maximum. There were two single beds standing in each their side of the room, two wardrobe, a single bookshelf for sharing and a table. Only one of the beds and most of one of the wardrobes were not cluttered with books, papers, something that looked remarkably like eyes in a jar, several containers with unknown content and general clutter, John figured he should not touch. There were broken glass and clothing spread across the wooden floor.

"I'll just..." Sherlock said, mostly to himself and took the pile of clothing in the nearly empty wardrobe and threw it on top of another pile of clothing somewhere next to Sherlock's own wardrobe.

"Thank you," John muttered, a tiny bit overwhelmed by the mess. It was the first day and John was sure you were not allowed to leave a mess like this during the summer vacation. John placed his duffel bag on the floor and threw the back pack on his bed to start unpacking, while Sherlock attempted to clear out some space for him on the bookshelf. He soon gave up, and John could feel him looking at him while he unpacked.


End file.
